


A Misstep

by aykayem



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Couches, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 13:52:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8104882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aykayem/pseuds/aykayem
Summary: Every once in a while, Harry has a decent conversation with Draco Malfoy. Generally speaking, he doesn't expect those conversations to happen while Draco's sitting on him.





	

“So you see, the solution is genius. You solve the sexual tension, you get orgasms out of the deal. You ignore it? You don’t. Very simple math, Potter. I know that can’t possibly go over your head.”

Judging by the look on Harry’s face, though, it was. Draco was horribly disappointed, and it showed; he sighed heavily, shaking his head a little as his eyes rolled skyward. To think of a way to get it through Harry’s head that this was a good idea was almost as difficult as training a cat to walk only on its front legs. While balancing on a ball.

Draco sighed again. He needed entirely more wine than he’d had, and moved to solve the problem with another large gulp, draining his glass. The bottle floating nearby automatically moved to refill it.

“There’s no proof that solved is better than ignored,” Harry piped up finally, the words rushing out a little too quickly to be anything but forced protestation, as though he was convinced that he needed to put up something of a fight. If he had far too much practice ignoring urges and desires, then he wasn’t about to volunteer that information.

“Truly?” Draco asked, the word somehow managing to have a few more syllables than normal for the way it was dragged out and laced with scepticism. Even Draco’s expression managed to convey absolute disbelief and a subtle desire to wring Harry’s neck.

“It’s-“ Harry started, then cut himself off with a huffed sigh. His mouth twisted uncertainly, and he frowned at Draco. Draco, who merely smirked in the most charming way he knew how, stopping just short of fluttering his eyelashes. Harry finally continued then, his hand tightening where it rested on Draco’s hip. The blond had been settled in his lap for a while now - a glass of wine’s worth of time, at least - while the pair casually argued. Casual arguments were par for the course, and Harry all but expected them now. “This is a profoundly bad idea.”

“Possibly,” Draco agreed, sipping his wine again before leaning forward to set it on the side table, his arms draping over Harry’s shoulders instead.

“I’m an expert on bad ideas.”

“And I’m an expert on poor life choices, so there we go. Matched set,” Draco drawled. Harry merely sighed, his other hand sliding up Draco’s waist lazily, then back down. It likely said everything that they’d gone from running into one another awkwardly at some friend-of-a-friend’s event, then to leaving together, then to ending up on the couch in their current predicament. Harry was only opposed on what seemed to be principle, rather than having any actual issues with it. And judging by the way that Draco had easily straddled Harry, he had no issues with it either.

Another good indicator was the fact that Draco simply decided to lean in then, closing the gap between them to steal a firm kiss. Harry’s hands tightened their grip minutely, his body tensing in slight surprise, but he gave in. He wasn’t a doormat, but he did like to pick his battles, and this one wasn’t worth fighting; instead, he opted to simply kiss Draco back until they parted for air.

“That’s not terrible. Not entirely, at least,” he remarked casually, despite the flush on his cheeks.

“Didn’t think so,” Draco drawled, smirking pleasantly before leaning back in once more to continue.

The party had been truly horrendous, some too-formal shindig with too many people brought together with none of the same interests. Small talk had been made, drinks imbibed, and the crowd mostly easy. It was no real surprise to Harry that he’d ended up hiding in a corner, and it was even less of a surprise - for some reason; he tried not to overthink it - that Draco ended up ducking into his corner as well, not having realised someone else was there.

Of course, it obviously worked out in their favour.

Harry was still of the mind that he needed to knock a little sense into Malfoy, though. Too much wine did this to a person, making them think that making out like teenagers was a good choice. Though, at the same time, Draco _had_ admitted that he knew he made bad choices. Perhaps he could forgive it, given that.

But no - what if he was seriously sick or something? Food poisoning, or a drugged drink, or something like that?

Harry abruptly pulled away once more, ignoring that he had pulled Draco’s shirt free of where it was tucked into his trousers, and had one hand splayed flat against his abdomen. He wasn’t entirely sure when his glasses went askew, but it was probably some time during the snogging.

“What _are_ you doing, Potter?”

Once more, Harry inhaled and exhaled heavily, frowning.

Draco gave him a Look, one that was well worthy of a capital letter. “You’re particularly dumb today, aren’t you, Potter?”

“It’s a gift,” came Harry’s easy reply.

“A very purposefully curated one. No one could possibly be this dense.”

“I do manage.”

Draco prodded him in the chest, pulling a face. “You’re an idiot.”

Harry just sighed, half-rolling his eyes as he batted Draco’s hand away. it wasn’t incredibly effective, but it wasn’t meant to be: it was only meant to make a point. “Listen here, Malfoy. No one calls me pretty. No one calls me anything other than some damn fool name the Prophet printed. No one but you. I think I’m allowed to have reservations.”

“Everyone knows the Prophet’s full of lies - isn’t that a direct quote from you?”

“And who believes me?”

Draco merely shrugged one shoulder, something in his expression seeming to say that he did. Of course, he knew full well the drivel they tended to print about him as well. They were all aware of it.

Harry just scoffed, though the sound was almost fond, amused. “Now I know you really are ill.”

“Not because of what you said,” Draco clarified, rolling his eyes skyward. “I know it because what they print is actually slander, and you just happened to say what was on my mind. It’s purely coincidence, you know.”

Slumping back against the couch, one hand falling away from Draco’s hip, Harry laughed. “What a relief that is.”

“Surely that girlfriend of yours called you something decent once or twice,” Draco prodded, arching one blond brow neatly. Then a wicked smirk curved his lips. “Ex-girlfriend? You are here with me, after all.”

“Leave Ginny out of this.”

Something in Harry’s expression changed, just slightly, but Draco ignored it in favour of decidedly not leaving Ginny out of it. “Should I be keeping this a secret? I’m horrid at that. Perhaps the Prophet’ll hear about it.”

“I can’t imagine anyone, even the Prophet, that would believe you.”

“And yet,” Draco drawled wickedly, “It would take the world by storm.”

“And Ginny- Well,” Harry replied, as casual as anything, “She’d be more worried for me than irate.” He followed it up by lightly shoving Draco. All the heat had gone from the argument, not that there had been any. Years ago, though, the whole thing would have been completely different, and neither of them was sure what changed.

“Poor dear. It must be so hard on her, having had her brains replaced with oatmeal so early on,” Draco chuckled.

“If you want to get me hot and bothered, you’re failing spectacularly,” came a deflection from Harry.

Draco’s shoulder rose and fell again. “I’m still sitting on you. I think that might be a failing on your part more than mine, to be quite frank.”

“Prick.”

“And?”

“I’d say ‘get off’, but then we both know where this conversation would go.”

“Precisely where I’m hoping it will.”

Harry then shifted, attempting to do the very difficult: he shuffled down a little more, resting his head back against the couch, shutting his eyes as he debated sleep. Wine was making his head feel a little heavy, though he hadn’t had quite as much of it as Draco had. He was just ruminating on that point when he felt Draco kiss him again, this time on his neck. It was a sweet, affectionate nip of a kiss, intended not to leave a mark, but instead, to get his attention.

He blinked green eyes back open, tipping his chin down so he could frown at his unlikely companion. There was no denying that his face was flushing, though, colour creeping through. “Malfoy, quit it.”

“Make me,” Draco challenged, and Harry only frowned harder, failing at coming up with anything he could do as long as Draco had him pinned. He could, of course, move him, but where was the fun in that? As if he knew that, Draco merely wriggled a little, smirking as innocently as anyone smirking could.

“What do you think I’ve been trying to do?” Harry asked, gripping Draco’s hip in indecision.

“You came home with me. You’re not doing very well.”

“You’ve got a very comfortable sofa,” came an infamous Potter subject change.

“Thank you, I think so too. Very good for pinning people against. It’s just the right width,” Draco mused, reaching down to snag Harry’s hands, relocating them to the back of the couch, near his head. “I searched far and wide for one like it.”

Harry huffed a heavy sigh. “I think I like your sofa more than I like you.”

“That suits me fine. No one said you had to like me.”

“I tend to try and like the people I snog.”

“That’s where the sexual tension bit comes in,” Draco replied, smirking. He was very close to Harry now, mostly because of how he was pinning his wrists and leaning in. “Very fine line, apparently, between love and hate.”

“I don’t hate you, Malfoy. It’s such an effort to maintain that real level of loathing. And why should I make an effort when I have this lovely, comfortable sofa?”

“Then we’re already doing better than I thought.” A puff of laughter escaped Draco; Harry could feel the warmth against his cheeks. Perhaps that was the blush that hadn’t gone away. “An effort in the opposite direction could earn you a lot more time on said sofa.”

Harry hummed. He hummed again, and then he frowned. “Malfoy,” he started hesitantly, then repeated the same a little more firmly: “Malfoy. We have a problem.”

“Do we?” Draco asked mildly, leaning in to press another kiss against the underside of Harry’s jaw. It was ignored, as much as Harry could ever ignore such proximity.

“You’re starting to sound not entirely unreasonable.”

“I thought so. It’s what I do.”

“Damn it,” Harry cursed beneath his breath. He inhaled, then exhaled, closing his eyes halfway again, his chin tipping back up. “Keep being reasonable,” he suggested. “It’s working.”

“I think I can do that,” Draco laughed against Harry’s neck before mentioning: “Have you seen the pillows on this sofa? They’re lovely.”

“They are,” Harry agreed.

“I recommend getting acquainted with those too.”


End file.
